


Mom

by Quantum_Overload



Series: Forgotten Files [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Overload/pseuds/Quantum_Overload
Summary: The last time I saw her.
Relationships: Original Female Character & Original Female Character, Original Female Character & Original Male Character
Series: Forgotten Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089077





	Mom

The last time I saw my aunt Kathy was the day my mother died. The day my father took me with him. The day my father and I met for the first time.

I remember...I remember trailing after him as we walked down the driveway. There was a black sedan waiting for us at the road. I had a canvas messenger bag, my uncle's, bumping against my hip and a backpack slung over my shoulders. Trailing behind me was my suitcase, it clacked against the concrete as I walked, but it got stuck. I tugged at the handle, it wouldn't budge. So I turned around to pick it up and caught one last look at my home.

I spotted my cousin, Justin, he was hiding on the other side of the roof, even though he could have just stayed in the attic and watched from the window. I guess, after so long of mother hiding away from us in that section of the attic it was instinct to just...climb higher. He looked angry, but I knew it wasn't at me because when he spotted my gaze his eyes drooped and his grip on the tiles tightened. My uncle was probably squirrelled away in his lab; I didn't mind. He was the only one who said goodbye. I was glad... I was glad at least someone was willing to admit that we'd probably never see each other again. Kathy was on the porch. She was sullen, her eyes sad, her shoulders hunched with one hand gripping the other's forearm. When I caught her eye she smiled, a small broken smile.

The case came loose, it was put into the trunk, and I got in the car. I don't remember how long ago that was.

  
  


I walk up a dirt path. There's a bouquet in my hand and a wicker basket swings from my wrist. I see someone wearing a blue hoodie with puffy white cotton around the hood's rim. My cousin, Justin, I guess me and my uncle were at least a third wrong; I'm glad. He's waiting for me. When I reach him he slings an arm around my shoulder and we walk through rows of stone slabs to have a picnic. It's mothers' day, and we're here to see our mom.

The last time I saw my mom was the day my mother died.


End file.
